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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964272">I'll Sing in the Silence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idol_pastimes/pseuds/Idol_pastimes'>Idol_pastimes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Sound of Silence [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>EastEnders (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:15:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964272</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idol_pastimes/pseuds/Idol_pastimes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes all you can do is survive the day and hope that tomorrow treats you a little better.  That's easier said than done, Ben knows, but he might have found the one thing that could make it bearable.  </p>
<p>A tiny continuation of the episode from the 28th Feb 2020.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Sound of Silence [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650502</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'll Sing in the Silence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well, as I felt that Friday's episode had an uneven split between angst and snuggling, I thought I'd try to redress the balance a little.  It was lovely, though.  That scene on the sofa...  Phew.  I'd like to shake the writer's hand after this past week.  Been something to look forward to at the end of each long working day! :D  Long may it last...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If it wasn’t for Callum’s arms, and Callum’s legs, and Callum’s chest rising and falling underneath him, Ben knew that he’d be an ugly shaking mess of pitiable skin curled on the kitchen floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful; the ability of his boyfriend to completely surround him with limbs and warmth was likely the only thing that was stopping him from smashing the place to pieces and God only knew, it’d taken him long enough to put the living room back together after his last meltdown.  He was still finding the dents in the woodwork that he’d have to try and disguise with photos or ornaments before they were spotted. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sudden snort that that thought invoked surprised him with its vigour.  <em>Who was going to care?  Sharon?  His dad?  Anyone who’d be slightly interested in the sideboard was either gone, in hiding or grieving.  </em>At this point, Ben was the only Mitchell in the house, and he certainly was doing a piss-poor job of keeping anything – <em>or anyone</em> – in good, working condition.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shifted as Callum’s hand moved, likely in response to the snort.  Long fingers raked through the short hairs at the side of his scalp and Ben closed his eyes, pushing closer still. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He knew he was being pathetic.  Screaming and lashing out at the one person he wanted to be close to and winding up with them both stuck on the cold tiles, up against the old dishwasher that no one used anymore.  <em>No point, really</em>, he mused.  <em>Not enough people in the house to fill a load of dishes.  Waste of water.  Waste of time.  </em>The pans and crockery on the draining board had been there for days; no one had been in to cook and Ben himself had certainly not been in the mood to crack out the kitchenware and whip up some culinary magic.  In fact, the last proper food he could recall was the boxed lunch his mum had brought over earlier, and that was still sitting on the dining room table, untouched.  As if on cue, he felt his stomach rumble.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That earned a reaction, and the vibrations and distant murmur of sound coming from Callum’s chest had Ben shaking his head slightly, gripping tighter to the grey hoodie beneath his cheek.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>‘No.  I ain’t hungry.’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The shifting of Callum’s legs, wiggling of the left and slight tensing of the right shot a bolt of panic through Ben, and he flinched before he could control it.  He pushed closer, shuffling and nudging the top of his head into the underside of Callum’s chin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>‘Don’t go!’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The movement stopped immediately.  He noticed the sudden stillness of the chest beneath him, and whined slightly, unknowingly, at the removal of the warm palm from his head; the arm wrapped around his waist tightened momentarily but then loosened again and Ben cracked an eyelid begrudgingly to try and gain a read on what was happening. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was infuriating and exhausting having to rely on his vision for everything.  He hated this.  He hated what he was now.  Who he was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That creeping, grasping feeling of self-loathing doubled in size and knocked him nauseous when he took in the position of the hand he’d bleated about moving; it was pressed to Callum’s side, knuckles white and shaking and as he pushed up and away in an immediate panic, Ben could see the pain shoot across his boyfriend’s bruised face in the pursing of his lips and the flaring of his nostrils.  He was clearly trying to hold his breath, slowing down any inhalations, anything that would make his chest expand or tense at all.  His skittering away jerked Callum’s arm unintentionally, and Ben was babbling apologies before he even knew that he’d opened his mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t even register what he was saying, and for the first time, it wasn’t because he couldn’t hear the words. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>‘Oh my God, Cal, I’m sorry, I’m sorry; I’ve hurt you again, Christ I’m so sorry- are you in pain?  I’ll grab you some aspirin or somethin’, just…’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now that he was looking, Ben could see the shallow breaths, the contorted body position that Callum had taken up just to hold him together following their ungainly descent to the ground.  Ben could barely remember the seconds, the minutes, the hour, maybe, they’d spent on the ground, but he started to register the cold seeping through his trouser leg, the stiffness in his lower limbs.  <em>And you ain’t even just out of a hospital bed, you selfish git.  Pull yourself together and look after him; it’s your fault he’s-</em></p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>His thoughts were cut off with a gentle finger under his chin and Callum leaning forward to look directly into his eyes once more. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>I’m fine</em>, he mouthed, nodding reassuringly and pushing aside a grimace in favour of one of his sideways, half-formed smiles.  Ben’s own breath caught in his throat and he could feel tears welling up again against his will.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>God, he’d missed him.  The blue of his eyes, the daft grin, the terrible attempts at winking.  To have never seen them again-</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>A tap under his chin had him reopening eyes he didn’t know he’d closed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Can we go sit on a proper seat, now?</em>  The words weren’t as clear this time, and Ben could see the fatigue in Callum’s eyes, but the sparkle of joy he could see there, just for being in the same room as him, struck him harder than it should have done.  <em>Get a grip, Mitchell</em>, he chastised himself.  <em>He’s already spelled out how much he… </em>cares<em> for you, and he stuck around during your little tantrum earlier; it’s not </em>that<em> surprising that he might enjoy being in your company.</em></p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>As though he could hear his thoughts, Callum shifted his hand up to stroke down the side of Ben’s face and smiled once more, tongue pressing against the back of his teeth and his eyes creasing as Ben leaned into his touch. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Come on.  Up.  We’re going for a lie down.</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Ben’s hand came up to cover Callum’s and he let his eyebrows raise in mock outrage.  ‘You propositioning me twice in one day, Mr Highway?’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pushing a hand against the floor and still gripping his ribs with the other, Callum rolled to his knees and started to rise, tentative and reaching out instinctively, knowing that he’d be held and supported.  Ben held tight to his hand and, once they were vertical, placed himself directly in front of his boyfriend, placing both palms flat against Callum’s warm chest.  Not thirty minutes ago he’d taken refuge there, his tears spattering down the front of the soft cotton and yet, there was no look of pity or disdain in those blue eyes.  If he wanted to, he could push forward again and bury his face until he was ready to emerge, whether it took minutes, hours  or days.  He knew that, unequivocally now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Doesn’t mean you deserve it, but he’d let you do it.  No matter how much you’ve hurt him, no matter how much of his pain you’ve caused.  </em>The voice in his head was still loud and clear, and Ben was starting to fear that it would be the only one he’d ever be able to hear again.  But looking into Callum’s face, he could ignore it, if only for a second at a time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clear and unhindered, he read Callum’s lips once more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I’ll do it every day, Ben.  Take you to bed every day for the rest of our lives if you want.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>His eyebrows dropped and any pretence at flirtation or mock prudishness dropped away in the face of such sincerity, such devotion.  Carefully and with whisper-soft gentleness, Ben reached around, wrapping his arms around Callum’s waist and laying his right ear against his heart.  The sound was probably all in his head, he knew, but the thumping regularity of the beat there pushed a sigh out of him.  Callum’s arms encircled him once more and he felt the recently shaven chin come to rest on his hair.  He was expecting the large palm to cover his exposed left ear and when the solid flat of that hand blocked out the rest of the world, it let Ben pretend for just a moment that the silence was only there because Cal was pushing the sound away, shielding him from it. </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>He sagged into the hold and whispered, ‘thank you’.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Callum didn’t move, didn’t sigh, didn’t loosen his grip.  He knew Ben, he saw him for exactly who he was, and still stood there, bruises and all, and held him close.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben was fully aware that he was just pushing the problem away.  That he was hiding from it.  That he was using Callum to distract himself from the reality that was threatening to crush him.  But as Callum started to rock ever so gently from side to side, and he felt the rumbling, enveloping vibrations of his boyfriend humming a song into the silence of the kitchen, he realised that maybe just the knowledge that this refuge was here might be enough to survive this day.  And maybe tomorrow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’d figure the rest of it out after that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
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